


orange's golden umbilicus

by Visardist



Category: Original Work
Genre: Fluff, Other, Pre-Relationship, Pregnant Character, Transformation (future)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 01:04:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20921630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Visardist/pseuds/Visardist
Summary: Eggbearing is a tedious process.





	orange's golden umbilicus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BiffElderberry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiffElderberry/gifts).

> Title adapted from An Orange in Mérida by Ben Belitt. Look, it said umbilicus, I couldn't not use it.
> 
> Ship is 'Disenchanted Dragon Slayer/Dragon Protecting a Nest and Needing a Knight in Shining Armor' but it wouldn't fit in the relationship box.

There were weeks yet for the eggs to be laid, and months more to be hatched. A slow, tedious process, hatchlings were; noisy, helpless creatures with their softened scales and spitting lukewarm phlogiston, gnawing toothlessly on its piles of gold as if their broken eggshells remained to be shared. The bright spot in this, the only thing it looked forward to, was the ability to hunt again for itself. It had been diverted from stocking its larder enough by the attacks, and though the human did his best to make up for both understocked larder and overmany hopeful heroes, he could only carry so much without assistance. Bad enough that he had to butcher his kills instead of hauling the carcases whole back to its cavern. It felt as if it ate scraps and rags, though the human was smart enough to let it eat its fill before taking the remaining meat to cook. And of course, dragons ate no plants.

The smell of meat came as the human climbed down into the cavern, and it sniffed appreciatively. Bear, butchered of course, but the human carried the weight well. The limbs, it guessed, and some organs wrapped in bearhide. The human was no longer cautious to approach it, and it blew sparks of phlogiston, carefully no warmer than his own blood, to greet him as he ran his rough hand over its muzzle.

"There's still the chest and the head," the human told it as he laid the carrying cloth on the cavern floor and began to unwind it, revealing each limb in turn. "I tied them up and hung them in a tree, so there'll be more tomorrow."

_ Intact? It is well. They have succulent brains, and though the eyes are small the eggs will appreciate it. _ Whatever curse or geas was laid upon the human, the fact that they could now communicate was useful.

It had its suspicions of the specifics of the magic, but there was no point alarming the human before it was sure.

"Eyes? Only bear's eyes, or any eyes? You should have told me before so I could pluck them first." While it picked up a leg to crunch down, the human turned to his circle of rock, piling up dry branches for it to set alight. As he turned, it considered the stretch of his back. Still soft as human hide usually was, the colour of his back was decidedly unlike that of human skin. Humans could turn red or brown, it knew, because of the summer sun, but this was the sheen of dragon scale. He would not know if it did not tell him.

It hadn't told him.

When he turned back, it was lying on its side, belly huge, forelegs folded beneath its muzzle, watching him. He made the sound that it had learned was a laugh, no longer fearful of this sight, and moved away so it could light the fire for him. "I've been thinking of better names, since you still don't like any. How does Kazan sound?"

_ Dragons need no names_, it reminded him again. _ I could no more mistake my egglayer for my seedsower than you your hand for your foot. Call me as you please. _It blew gently, sparks flying away as the wood lit and the human began to tend the fire.

"A name has no meaning if you don't like it," the human told it as he poked at the branches so they would burn better, funnel the flame into something lasting. "I chose Kelmund as my name because I shared mine with my father, old bastard. You don't dislike any of mine but you still don't _ like _ them either. Don't dragons have anything like that? If you spoke of one dragon to another dragon, how would you call it?"

_ It. _

The human sighed. It picked up another limb, tore it neatly at the joint, and gave one half to the human for his dinner. It could see that the human was going to go into one of his moody turns if it didn't say something.

_ Listen well, Kelmund. I need no name. When I am spoken of by other dragons I am _and here it broke into dragonspeech that the human had not heard before. This was not language the way he understood it, just smell and sound and feeling. He could translate it to no group of words that he could articulate.

He sat there a while, staring open mouthed at it, until it pointedly whipped its tail around to poke lightly at his thigh. _ I believe your meat is burning. _

"Shit!"

When they were both fed, and he lay against its heavy eggfull belly, it asked, unexpectedly, ** _must_ ** _ I have a name? There is only you and I here for now, and you do not like to speak to your kind anymore. Any dragon would know me. _

He didn't raise his head, curled against the wide curve of eggs beneath its scales, but answered drowsily. "Can't I call you something, even to myself?"

It turned this sentiment over in its head, absently curling its tail so it lay over his legs. He adjusted its weight off his knees, but did not otherwise move it.

_ I suppose Kazan will make as good a name as any. And when you said it, it sounded like your name. They go well. _

"Oh? Oh. Fine. Yes. Goodnight, Kazan."

_ Goodnight, Kelmund. Save some names for the hatchlings. _


End file.
